


St Nicholas Day

by beltainefaerie



Series: I Want All of You [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 25 days of ficmas, Beards (Facial Hair), Christmas, Established Relationship, Father Christmas - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, References to Reichenbach, Retirementlock, St Nicholas, only I'm just doing a couple promps as the whim strikes, santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short romantic bit of retirementlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	St Nicholas Day

**Author's Note:**

> I understand that in England they usually call this figure Father Christmas, but the Sussex Winter Fair really does have a Santa's Grotto and the first fic in the series was for a prompt that included Santa, so I went with it both times. It isn't necessary to read the other fics in this series to understand and enjoy this one.
> 
> Unlike the rest of the series there is no overt D/s in this bit.

The Winter Faire was over for the year. Santa’s Grotto had been a great success, complete with baby reindeer for children to pet. Apparently they were the next generation to be trained as my sleigh team. 

That night, seemingly apropos of nothing, Sherlock remarked, “You know, if you started next month, you could really grow it out.”

“Grow what out?” I answered as I carefully stored my Father Christmas costume. It was worn in a couple places from years of wear, but Sherlock’s tailor had done a fine job with it all those years ago and it was only taken out a couple times each year. The children of the village had certainly enjoyed it every December for the past decade now. 

“Your beard. You could grow a real one instead of using that hairpiece,” his nose crinkling, in distaste as he added, ”and spirit gum.”

I threw my arms around Sherlock and nuzzled under his dressing gown to playfully rub my bare jaw against Sherlock’s shoulder. “I distinctly recall being told that you prefer your doctors clean- shaven. Can’t have you running off and finding a new one, now can we?”

Sherlock cupped my chin. “Never. I’ve grown too fond of the old one.” We chuckled then kissed softly before he continued, “In all sincerity, though, it looked good on you this year. I think you’ve grown into it.”

“I think that’s your way of saying I’m old enough to be a proper Father Christmas now.”

Sherlock hummed, a noncommittal sort of sound, but I knew by now that it was agreement. If he disagreed, Sherlock would say so. Generally at great length.

We stood together just holding one another for a few heartbeats before Sherlock said, “I was vain and hurt when I said that the first time. I didn’t like that you’d changed in my time away. It wasn’t just the mustache that aged you, though it did. There were worry lines that didn’t belong to the face I’d left behind. Lines I knew grief had put there. _I_ had put there.”

“There now.” I reached up and stroked Sherlock’s soft curls, shot through now with silver. “It’s long past and long forgiven. You know that.”

“I know.” he answered brusquely. He smiled, then, and you could hear it in his voice, the tone softening. “I like the new changes. The ones I’ve been here to see.”

“Oh?”

Sherlock traced his fingers gently over my face as he spoke. “These smile lines we made together. The hair I watched turn from golden to grey to white. A beard would be a change I watched happen, too.”

“I never thought being called old could sound so sweet. You really are a romantic at heart.” Sherlock pretended to bristle at that, belied by the gleam in his eye.

“All right. I can see how it goes.” I let go of Sherlock and turned towards the kitchen. “I could start tomorrow. A year off of shaving doesn’t sound bad.”


End file.
